Title: Holiday Revenge (2/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Pike/Archer, Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk’s enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling.
Part: 1

Part Two

The night-shift receptionist is new and apparently not up-to-date on the family tree of every officer in the department. Jon thinks this can be the only reason for the guy’s stupidity, because when he denies Kirk and Archer entrance to the bullpen, Kirk gapes at him like an open-mouthed fish.

The receptionist gives them both a disinterested look. “If you need to speak to an officer or report a crime, I can assist you.”

“But I come here all the time! Detective Pike is my dad,” Jim explains, belligerence slowly taking the place of his surprise.

This young man isn’t impressed with such reasoning. “I don’t know that. Identification, please.”

The flare in Kirk’s eyes is a warning sign that Jon recognizes. He settles a hand on the boy’s shoulder and intervenes before things turn ugly. “We’re here to see the detective. How about give him a buzz for us? I’m sure this misunderstanding will be cleared up shortly thereafter.”

“I need a legitimate reason,” insists the guy.

Jon grabs Kirk by the shirt collar and drags him back before Jim finishes launching himself (albeit pointlessly) at the bullet-proof glass of the receptionist’s station. Bracing his forearm against the slim counter, he smiles—and flips open his Sheriff’s badge, pressing it to the glass. “This is all the reason you need, son. Go get Pike.”

The young man straightens in his chair, eyes widening. “Yes, sir, I mean—” He squints at the badge. “—Mr. Archer?”

“Sheriff,” Jon corrects flippantly. To Kirk, he murmurs, “This one’s definitely a newbie.”

“But there’s a problem, Sheriff,” the guy goes on to say, after fiddling with the laptop in front of him and frowning. “Detective Pike isn’t here. That is, according to the time-keeping system he is, he’s really not. But I couldn’t clock him out because I can’t do that in the system, and Doreen forgot to before she left, and so he’s in.”

Jonathan closes his eyes briefly. “Is he here in person or not?”

“No, sir.”

Jim has calmed down. “Then where is he?”

The guy adjusts his glasses and blinks owlishly at them. “Home, I guess.”

“That would be a no,” Jon replies in a flat tone, “since we came here from Pike’s house to find him.”

Now the receptionist is the one scratching his head. “Then… he’s not a home?”

Jon whirls around, resisting the strong urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and mutters a series of indelicate words under his breath. He turns to Kirk with the permission, “Okay, do it your way.”

Jim pivots on a heel and strides down the hallway.

The receptionist rises from his chair in alarm. “Wait a minute, you can’t just—!”

“I’m a sheriff,” Jon cuts in. “I can damn well do what I want.” He follows Kirk.

Jim stops at the security door, glances around, and slips something out of his pocket. The door unlocks and opens, and they’re through, easy as pie.

Jonathan lengthens his stride to catch up the quick-paced Kirk. “Do I want to know how you acquired that keycard?”

“No, and don’t tell Dad.”

“Uh-huh, because your father would be totally surprised that you can break into the precinct whenever you want,” Jon retorts dryly.

Jim, unexpectedly, flashes a grin. “I’m pretty sure Dad left it lying around so I could steal it.”

That… would boggle Jon’s mind if he didn’t already have a good idea of how the Pike-Kirk dynamic worked. From that perspective, it makes absolute sense that in figuring Jim would find a way in on his own, Pike made it painless for the both of them. He supposes Chris has learned some lessons well after parenting a kid like Kirk for years.

Jon figures he shouldn’t be outwardly approving (despite his little inner devil laughing heartily) so he says, “Forget I asked.”

Jim leads them unerringly to the bullpen, where it looks like any graveyard shift in law enforcement. Of the two people actually on duty, one of them is resting his head on a stack of case files, drooling, and the other is texting like it’s the end of the world. Neither seem to care enough to investigate who has joined them.

Jim’s pace slows down as he cuts corners around the organized hatchback pattern of desks. Then he stops at one in particular.

If Archer had not already guessed whose desk it must be, the neatly arranged photographs of Jim along the top shelf of the cubicle would have solved the mystery. Jon reaches over and picks up one of them, raising an eyebrow. “So you did have an awkward teenager phase. Look at that hair!”

Jim steals the photo, barely glancing at it as he replaces it. “Dad’s not here.”

“Nor has been for a while,” Jon adds.

Jim looks at him. “How can you know that?”

He points out the various clues. “Congealed coffee, powered-down computer, all his pens in a row.”

Jim nods absently. “Yeah, Dad does that. He always lines up his pencils and stuff before leaving his desk. It’s so weird.”

Jon almost smiles. “It’s Pike. He had that habit at the Academy too.” Jon used to tease his classmate about this OCD tendency, but frankly it’s one of the many little quirks about Chris that attracted Jon to him.

Not that he needs to tell Jim that part. It might make him look sentimental.

Jim shoves his hands into his pajama pockets. “How do we find him?”

Jonathan is a little taken aback by Kirk’s willingness to defer to his authority. Then again, he has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Angling his body slightly, he lifts two fingers to his mouth, and lets out a shrill whistle.

The sleeping officer wakes up with an indelicate snort, and Mr. Phone pauses mid-text.

“You and you,” Jon calls, singling them out, “come over here.”

“Huh?” bleats the napper, looking confused.

Phone Guy is warier of strangers. “How did you two get in here?”

Jim steps around Archer, saying to the man rubbing his eyes, “Hey, Phil.”

Phil squints briefly, then his entire face lights up. “Jimmy!” The man shoves away from his desk. To the other officer, he says, “This is Pike’s kid.”

Finally the other guy lays down his phone. “The kid? Oh man,” he says, hurrying to catch up to Phil and, oddly enough, pumping Kirk’s hand enthusiastically. “I’ve been wanting to meet you!”

“Uh,” Jim says, turning a little shy, “you were?”

“Sorry I didn’t know recognize you, though I probably should have. Your dad has like album on his desk.” The guy gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m new here.”

Phil claps his companion on the shoulder. “Jim, this is Carlos. He started three weeks ago. Oh hey, have I got a story for you! Carlos had to take his first ‘public disturbance’ to the drunk tank and—”

Carlos turns red. “Don’t tell him that story.”

“But it’s classic!” Phil argues.

“It sounds cool,” Jim agrees, “but is it okay to hear it later? I really need to find Dad right now.”

Jon feels bad for Phil, who is obviously disappointed about not being able to share a funny anecdote of a rookie. Jim does have a point, though. Distractions are not welcome just yet.

He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Officers. Sheriff Archer, at your service.”

Carlos looks wary again. “Of what county?”

“Let’s just say a neighboring one,” Jon supplies.

Jim seems to think it necessary to butt in. “The sheriff is a friend of Dad’s from like thirty years ago. He’s… visiting with us. Briefly.”

Jonathan doesn’t like that explanation one bit but now isn’t the time to gainsay it.

“I was kind of hoping Dad would come home for dinner,” Jim continues on, “but he must have had to work.” The skin around his eyes tightens. “It’s really late now, and I can’t reach him by the phone.”

“That is weird,” Phil agrees. “I know your dad. Everybody knows he likes to be home by ten to tuck you in.”

Jim grins like that is a joke.

Carlos eyes Pike’s son as if he has grown a second hand. “Aren’t you a little too old for that?”

“By two decades,” Jon points out.

Jim shoots back at him, “You’re just jealous.”

Now it is Jon’s turn to grin. “Oh, I don’t think so, kid.” He imagines all the various ways that Pike has ‘tucked him in’. Sadly he can’t make a lewd remark in front of the innocents without Jim punching his lights out.

Neither of them needs to go to jail tonight. Chris would blow a gasket.

He turns his attention back to Carlos and Phil. “Who do I have to ask to find out where Pike went?”

The two officers exchange a look.

“I don’t care if it’s ass o’clock in the morning,” he adds.

Phil’s hesitance is unusual. “Captain Liu knows best. She keeps a pulse on every officer in the department but, uh, I wouldn’t recommend—”

Jon whips out his cell phone. “Give me her number.”

Jim recites it dutifully, then just shrugs when the look Jon gives him is full of disbelief and you had this information the whole time but didn’t tell me?

As Jonathan dials the number, all three men around him suddenly take a large step back as though they expect fireworks or an exploding cell phone, causing Jon to experience second doubts about calling Pike’s boss. Unfortunately the phone is already ringing, and a feminine voice, deeper than normal, answers on the fourth ring.

Archer takes a deep breath. “Captain Liu? This is—”

He is cut off by “Has the mayor been murdered?“

“Uh, no?”

“Did someone bomb the City Council Chambers?“

“I don’t know where that is, ma’am.”

“Then I don’t give a flying fuck, understand?” The voice on the other end is definitely growling now. “Don’t call this phone again before sunrise!“

Phil mouthes, Warned you. Jim, arms folded across his chest, just shakes his head. Carlos winces on Archer’s behalf.

Jon clears his throat. “I’m sorry but—”

The line goes dead.

He peels the phone away from his ear and stares at it in surprise.

Phil explains sympathetically, “The Captain told us on her first day on the job that if we call her in the middle of the night, she’ll serve us our balls.”

Jon can only think of one question to ask: “But what if someone did murder the mayor?”

“Then she would tell you to handle it and have her espresso ready at 8 am sharp. You have to be on her list of people she’ll take a call from after midnight, and from what I know that list is extremely short. Like her husband and kids only or something.”

It sounds like Liu has a pair of steel balls of her own if she won’t be moved by anything short of disaster or family. Jon takes a moment to wonder if Chris has charmed her to that extent. If anyone could, it would be him. However, thinking about that—and remembering why, unlike Liu, he isn’t in bed at this godforsaken hour—spurs him to hit the redial button.

Jim’s eyes widen.

Carlos blurts out, “Are you stupid? Why are you calling her back?”

Phil backs all the way up until he hits the edge of a desk, waving his hands frantically in a silent gesture of Don’t do it!

This time Liu picks up quickly with a low snarl of “Who is this?“, but Archer is prepared.

“Captain,” he says in a slight rush, “you know what I don’t give a flying fuck about? Your beauty sleep. But for the sake of courtesy, I’ll keep this short and sweet. There’s a situation at your precinct. Get here. Now.” He hangs up.

Officer Phil’s expression is a cross between horror and fascination. The rookie, Carlos, does a slow clap.

Jon tries to ignore the fact that his heart is racing as if he had just faced off with a mean pitbull who wanted to eat him for dinner and the owner had left the gate to the yard open. Yeah, he really thinks he just invited Liu to shoot him on sight. She probably will—after she crushes his boy parts under a boot heel.

“Whoa,” Jim summarizes. “You’re dead. So dead.”

Archer grimaces. “Guess I’ll have to be. At my funeral, tell Pike it was all for him.”

That has the effect of sobering Kirk. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

The sincerity is real; Jon can see it in Jim’s eyes, which eases his worry a bit. He nods and tucks his cell phone away.

Carlos is the only one still looking at him kind of strangely. “You’re making a big deal about Pike. Why?”

Archer is silent for a moment, considering how much to divulge of his suspicions. Since it’s likely he will have to tell Liu that and more just to prevent his early demise, he decides the reality cannot be denied much longer anyway. Still, trying to blunt about it is like ripping off a bandaid; it hurts.

“You have a fellow officer who’s unaccounted for.” Jon glances at Kirk, who doesn’t move, doesn’t look upset or afraid except for a very faint lightening of his pallor. “I would say that is a huge deal.”

Carlos nods slowly. “Then how do we proceed, Sheriff?”

Suddenly it isn’t only Jim looking to Archer for direction but these officers, Pike’s brothers-in-arms, as well. In a way that makes Jon feel old despite how appreciative he is that his expertise is valued.

“Turn around,” he orders.

The men looked confused.

He edges open one of the drawers to Pike’s desk, clarifying, “You don’t want to see this. Plausible deniability, gentlemen.”

They all quickly put their backs to him, Carlos returning to his desk and his cell phone while Phil pretends to need to use the bathroom. Jonathan stares a moment longer at Jim’s stiff back, but Jim thankfully does not turn around or question the orders.

Satisfied, he sits in Chris’s chair, slides out the top desk drawer and begins to riffle through the paperwork therein. Something of Pike’s new case has to be around here to give him an idea of what situation Chris might have been involved in today.

If they are lucky, the information will be a road straight to Pike.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, Archer is musing over what he suspects is the case Pike started working on when the double doors to the bullpen slam open, admitting one woman looking like a cat dunked in water and rubbed the way. Her flip-flops slap against the floor as she stalks forward. Jon has just enough time to shove the manila folder under a nearby stack of papers and brace against the desk before the newcomer barrels through their group, effectively scattering everyone but him. Her attire, a faded t-shirt and sweatpants, is hardly intimidating but her gaze promises a grisly death. It’s the first time he has seen a woman bare her teeth like a wild animal.

His hands go up in an automatic defensive gesture.

“YOU,” she snarls.

Jon laughs nervously. “Me?”

In the next second, this woman (who can be none other than Captain Liu) has him pinned by his jacket lapels.

“You have five seconds to explain yourself!” she snaps at him.

Jon opens his mouth, really only thinking he ought to beg for forgiveness instead of explain, but to his surprise, Jim wraps a hand around Liu’s arm and says in the saddest voice Jon has ever heard from him, “Mrs. Liu?”

Liu turns to stare at Kirk, an arrested look blanketing the fire in her eyes. “Jim?” She lets go of Jon. “What are you doing here?”

Jim releases her arm and shuffles his feet like a small child. “Dad didn’t come home.”

Liu frowns. “That’s not possible.”

“Clearly it is,” Jon interjects.

Liu whips her head back in his direction, her tone of voice far less friendly. But she surmises, an ode to her intelligence, “You called me here because of Pike?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman steps back and eyes both males critically before surveying her two officers, who are trying to look inconspicuous at their desks. “Doreen told me this afternoon that Pike planned to take off early.” She focuses again on Jim. “I assumed he wanted to have dinner with you before you left town.”

Everyone but Liu pointedly looks away from the sudden glassy sheen to Jim’s eyes. Kirk asks the woman plaintively, “So why didn’t he?”

She presses her mouth into a thin line. “I can’t speak for what your father does off-duty, Jim.”

Jon steps forward. “Are you hundred percent certain he made it that far?”

“Meaning what, Sheriff?”

Jon is taken aback. “How did you know I’m—”

“You’re Sheriff Jonathan Archer. I make it a point to know what I’m walking into. Now, what were you saying about Detective Pike?”

Jon glances at the listening ears (namely Jim’s) and offers her a polite smile. “Why don’t we take this discussion into your office?”

She considers that request for too long before pivoting around and heading for her office.

When Jon presses a hand to Jim’s chest when Jim starts to tag along, Jim’s expression changes instantly from worried to edgy bordering on angry.

“I will punch you,” he warns Jon in a low tone, “if you tell me to stay out of this.”

“I’m not telling you to stay out of this, Kirk. But in case you haven’t noticed, that woman is still pissed. If she’s going to help us at all, I need to let her kick me around a little to make amends—and frankly I would rather not have an audience when she does.”

Some of Kirk’s anger vanishes. “Greta won’t hurt you physically,” he assures Jon. “Her preferred method of attack is more psychological in nature.”

“Great,” Jon deadpans. “Just what I need, more damage to my psyche.”

Jim looks him over. “You are kind of messed up.”

Before Jon can respond to that, Liu snaps from her office doorway, “Archer, get your ass over here!”

Jon sighs. “I hear my fate calling. Excuse me. Why don’t you go break into a security system or something? This shouldn’t take long.”

Jim rolls his eyes but steps back, saying, “Convince her.”

He promises, “If I can’t, we’ll find another way.”

“I know we will,” is Jim’s only reply. Then Pike’s son walks away, back to the set of doors leading to the hallway. Jon wonders if he is going to pester the receptionist again but decides it would be better not to know.

Liu is waiting, already seated behind her desk, looking less wrathful but somehow more intimidating.

Jon hesitates in the doorway. “Should I bring you coffee first?”

“Quit stalling.”

He comes inside and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t sit down because he would rather take his beating standing up. He does have some pride.

“We haven’t been introduced properly,” Liu begins, strangely enough. “I’m Gretchen Liu, captain of this precinct.”

“Jonathan Archer,” he replies. “Sheriff.”

“Not of this county,” she remarks, “which is why I have a long list of questions for you. For the sake of time I will ask only two. You’re interested in my detective’s whereabouts. Why? And what business do you have with his son?”

She doesn’t mince words, this captain. Jon can respect that. “Christopher Pike is an old friend of mine. I’m staying at his family home.”

Her gaze sharpens. “That sounds like a personal interest—as well as a conflict of duties, given that you’re overseeing Kirk’s assault case.”

“It just happened that way.”

“Which part?”

Jon’s temper flares. “Now isn’t the time to grill me on my choice of acquaintances. It’s extremely possible that you have a missing person’s case. Pike doesn’t skip off into the wild blue yonder without telling someone, and what he did tell you doesn’t add up to what actually happened!” Shit, does he really have to spell this out for her?

Liu leans back in her chair. “I’m well-aware of Detective Pike’s habits. You are too, it seems.”

Jon rakes a hand through his hair. “Listen. I know I forced you to break one of your personal rules. You don’t like me. I get that.” He steps right up to her desk. “But this is about Pike, not me.” Pointing at the window, covered by blinds, he clarifies, “It’s about that kid out there who can’t sleep until he knows where his dad is. Give me something here, Liu.”

“It’s Captain,” she corrects him, “and you know the laws as well as I do, Sheriff. The average missing persons case isn’t investigated until twenty-four hours or more have passed.”

“If the absence is unusual or you have reason to suspect foul play, you don’t have to wait to make that report or investigate it.” Archer leans toward her. “Time is the most critical factor, especially for a missing cop. You should know that.”

Something strange flickers through Liu’s gaze. She angles her chair away, crossing her legs. “Give me evidence. A reasonable suspicion.”

“What was Pike working on?”

“I can’t share that.”

He stops himself from slamming his fists down on her desk, but it’s a near thing. “Damn you! How can we help each other if you block me at every turn?”

“Do not,” the woman answers frostily, turning back to him, “assume I am playing a power game with you right now. You demanded I come here, and I did. You tell me I could have a detective missing, and I’m willing to listen to your theories. Why? Because Pike is one of mine. He matters to this department, and he matters to me. I am not working against you—but I will not simply throw out the rule book and disregard the system to appease your need for faster results.”

Jonathan locks his jaw and straightens up.

She finishes, “We can work together on this, Sheriff, but not solely on your terms. Respect my house or get out.”

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I apologize, Captain. I overstepped.”

“Apology accepted. Now, let’s cut the shit, shall we?”

“My sentiments exactly,” he replies in a grim tone. “Where do we start?”

“By locating Pike or securing that evidence, whichever comes first. I noticed his truck is still in the parking lot.”

So had Jon. Yet another thing that had sent a shiver down his spine.

Liu comes out of her chair, then, striding for the door to her office. “We can track the cruiser he used today.”

Archer falls into step with her. “What can I do?”

She pauses, even as the other officers and Kirk, who had returned to the bullpen in the interim, gather around. The look she gives Jon is somewhat unsettling. “As another officer of the law? At the moment, nothing. As a civilian worried about his friend…”

“A search of my own,” Jon supplies, understanding the hint. He turns to the other officers. “Hope you fellas don’t mind a tail.”

Jim steps forward. “I’m going with you.”

Jon balks at the idea, but only because he knows how difficult it will be to keep Kirk leashed and search for Pike at the same time. And if they happened to come across an unpleasant scene…

Liu must really be on his side, for she tells Kirk, “One of you should stay here in case additional information comes into the station.”

Jim looks momentarily torn, then seems to accept his fate.

Jon feels a pang at the way Kirk’s shoulders curve downward and the young man’s head droops. “I’ll keep you updated,” he offers.

Jim’s head comes up again. “How? A live broadcast?”

Oh boy. “If you think you can stand hearing me talking for hours on end.”

“Sure,” Jim insists, appearing not to get the message, “I can do that.”

“Wonderful,” Jon mutters. Oddly, in a way, he is relieved. At least by talking to Jim he can keep tabs on him too.

Liu orders, “Phil, wake up Danvers. No one goes un-partnered outside this station. Carlos, you’re our home-base. Start by calling the hospitals.”

“We already checked the accident reports from today,” Carlos adds. “No one matching Pike’s description was admitted in the last day.”

Liu nods her approval. To Archer, she remarks, “It will take me a half an hour to run the GPS for the cruiser. In the meantime,” here her gaze encompasses Kirk as well, “keep your hands to yourself and sit tight.”

Good thing Jon already gave Pike’s desk a thorough scouring. By Liu’s expression, she must suspect they have already broken more than a few of the house rules before her arrival. She wouldn’t be wrong.

“Well,” Jon says, rubbing his hands together after Pike’s boss vacates the area, “who wants to play Go Fish?”

~~~

As Jonathan finishes saying, “Coming up to a stop sign… slowing down now…” he hears “I regret this.“

Grinning, he presses the radio button once more and laughs like a maniac. “Too bad, kiddo. You said you wanted a by-blow.”

“Up yours.“

“Aw,” he teases, “you care—or was that a sexual innuendo?”

Jim’s hiss through the radio speaker is like static. That tickles Jon because they both know Jim can’t hang up on him without admitting defeat. Jon has Kirk right where he wants him.

But apparently not his truck. He swerves slightly to avoid a collision with a car at the four-way stop because he isn’t fast enough to take his turn and the other car decides to go ahead.

Jim has surprisingly acute hearing. “What was that?” comes the demand.

Jon says somewhat sheepishly, “The avoidance of a minor collision.”

“You’re an idiot,” complains Pike’s son. “Eyes on the road.“

Kirk needs to stop channeling his father. “Hey, who’s the boss here?”

“Me.“

Well, he should have seen that answer coming. Of course Kirk thinks he is in charge. Jon may be the Big Bad Sheriff heading up the investigative work but Jim would definitely consider himself the puppet-master pulling the strings. He has the attitude of a punk and the ego of a senior sergeant. It would be a killer combination for someone on the force.

Jon shocks himself by thinking that and quickly focuses his attention on his driving. He cannot allow himself to imagine Jim Kirk following in Pike’s footsteps; it’s simply as terrifying as it is fitting.

“Hey, hey? Are you there?“

“Yeah,” he calls back. “We’re coming up on the area, I think.” He turns right nearly on the bumper of the police cruiser, his truck’s suspension system suddenly having to compensate for the change in terrain from smoothing riding on asphalt pavement to the instability of a dirt road.

Even with the darkness barely alleviated by a half-moon, Jon sees the stretch of trees up ahead and experiences an eerie sense of deja-vu.

“Do you know what’s out here?” he questions Kirk.

“That far north, not much.” Kirk sounds tense. “Farmland. Woods.“

And no reason for Pike to be here, Jon thinks. He doesn’t like this. Better to keep Jim talking instead of thinking too much.

“How far to the next town?”

“Dunno. Fifteen miles, maybe? Hold on, Carlos is going to Google it for us.“

Up ahead, the police cruiser rolls to a stop at a fork in the road. Jon parks on the opposite side of them. He sees Phil and his partner Danvers exit the vehicle, flashlights already roaming the countryside.

This is a moment he has been dreading. “Kirk, I need to go now.”

“Wait,” Jim begins to protest.

“I can’t look for your dad and stay on this radio with you at the same time.”

Silence. Then, almost as a whisper, Jim pleads, “I have to know.“

“Your officer friend will keep the station posted.” Jon hesitates. “We might have to walk a ways, so an hour tops—okay?”

There comes another long pause before Jim answers. “Okay.“

“Hang in there,” Jon tells him and clicks off. He steps out of the truck and heads toward the two officers, an oversized flashlight from a toolbox in his backseat in hand.

“This is the general location, as close as the GPS can tell us,” Phil informs him. “The vehicle should be within a radius of a couple miles at most.”

“Let’s spread out then,” Archer suggests. “One of you search this area, another head north on the right fork. Circle back counterclockwise. I’ll take the other road.” He pauses, then, before adding, “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you boys to stay alert. No telling what’s out here after dark.”

They echo in unison as if they were his own deputies, “Yes, Sheriff.”

Jon starts down the dirt road on his left, flashlight held high. Occasionally he sees a footpath stomped into the brush but he isn’t tempted to take it. No one could drive a car through that tangled mess without it being obvious.

This desolate place gives him the willies, like some scene come to life out of a horror film in which the boogeyman is hiding in the woods, waiting for the poor dumb bastard who ventures away from his party of friends. Being out here alone, even if he is within shouting distance of the others, makes for a perfect ambush.

That thought stops him in his tracks.

What if that’s what this is? Someone leading them into an ambush?

Can’t be. Why here? Why use Pike as bait?

The trouble is, he can think of a few reasons. Only those reasons do seem far-fetched for the situation. Pike went out on an investigation. It would be more logical that he saw something to chase down and ended up stranded in a place like this.

Suddenly, a cry of Chris’s name builds in his throat. He forces it down, instead making himself focus on the task. Look for the car. The car is the first clue to finding out what happened to Chris.

The dirt road seems to go on forever. Five minutes becomes ten, which becomes twenty. Each time Jon comes upon a turn-off he thinks would be wide enough to squeeze a cruiser down, he investigates it. At one point, he meets a metal gate and a square field beyond. The gate is chained and bolted, with enough clay dust on it to show that it hasn’t been unraveled in a long time. Archer moves on.

By his estimate, he has nearly reached the end of the GPS’s signal radius. A dead end, then, he surmises.

As he stops in the middle of the road, an owl hoots. Jon lifts his flashlight and skims the trees on either side of the road, tracking the sound.

He knows he should go back now and hope the others had better luck. And what seems endless in darkness can take no time at all to search in daylight.

But he doesn’t want to leave. It is as if his legs are stubbornly unwilling to budge another inch. In order to clear his head, he switches off his flashlight and lets the filter of moonlight coat the landscape. When he closes his eyes, he hears the owl again, farther away, and something tiny rustling through the undergrowth nearby. No shouts from the others. No sound of car motors, someone coming to retrieve him because Pike’s cruiser has been found.

Is this a wild-goose chase? If he keeps going, against all logic, will he find what he is looking for?

The deciding factor is two-fold: turning his back when Chris could be out here, hurt, alone, needing someone to find him; and having to face Pike’s son empty-handed.

“Oh well,” he tells the cold night air. “Let’s do this, Archer.”

He flicks on the flashlight again and keeps going.

~~~

Phil meets Danvers at the car and, by the look on his partner’s face, doesn’t really need to ask how the search went. He does anyway. “Find anything?”

“Na-da,” Danvers replies. “You?”

“A bunch of scary shadows and ugly moss.” He jerks open the car door and in frustration whacks the back panel of his laptop seeing by the gear shift. “Maybe this program is screwed up.”

“If you hit it like that, compadre, it will be.” Danvers climbs into the passenger side. “Are we sure Pike is actually missing and not just killing some time at a bar?”

Phil looks at him askance. “Pike, in a bar, while his sick kid stays home being eaten alive by worry? You can’t be serious, Joey.”

“Yeah, okay,” Danvers concedes. “That doesn’t sound like Chris.”

“Pigs would sooner fly.”

Phil can see that Joey has a question he wants to ask but is uncertain if it is appropriate. Given that he has asked his fair share of inappropriate questions in his lifetime, he prompts, “What’s bugging you?”

“I don’t know. I have this weird feeling we have been here before. Pike’s son was assaulted not long ago, right? Well you remember when Marcus’s daughter had her accident…”

“Marcus was AWOL for days.”

Danvers nods. “Rumor is he was tearing up the streets looking for that son of a bitch who hit his girl and ran, and he wasn’t doing it by the books, if you know what I mean.”

Phil guesses, “So you think Pike has gone off-book too?”

The man spreads his hands wide. “Hey, parents and kids. It’s a bond you don’t fuck with.”

As a new father to a pair of cute toddler twins, Phil would agree. Even so, he shakes his head. “Pike’s the most level-headed person I know. I’m not saying he wouldn’t want an hour alone with the guys responsible, but he’s not… that guy. You know what I mean?”

“I guess so.”

Phil shuts his car door and reports into the station, telling them the search is still on-going.

Joey gives him a look.

“Sheriff Archer’s still out there,” Phil reminds him.

“Okay, so that guy seems like the ‘leave ’em bloody and dead’ type. Why is he here again?”

“Honestly?” Phil replies. “Hell if I know. But the Captain approved it.”

Danvers just sighs and points to the road neither of them went down. “He’s probably halfway to Kalamazoo by now. We need to bring him back.”

Phil has already cranked the engine and pulled onto the dirt road. He drives slowly so he doesn’t accidentally run into or over Archer. He starts to worry when his odometer tells him they have gone more than two miles.

“I didn’t mean that literally about Kalamazoo,” his partner says uneasily. “Where the hell is he?”

Without warning a large shape shoots across the road, scaring the shit of Phil and causing him to swerve the car. He manages not to crash them into the trees.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Danvers curses loudly, having grabbed the handle above the car window.

In the next moment, they are both scrambling out of the car, guns drawn. The shape unbends in the middle and straightens into a man.

Archer, to be exact.

The sheriff looks winded, like he has been running a race. Leaves and twigs are poking out of his hair.

“We almost hit you!” Phil exclaims.

Still panting, Archer flaps a hand at them in some unspoken command.

Danvers looks to Phil for translation. “What is going on?”

“Car,” Archer says between deep breaths. “…Woods. There.” He points.

And Phil gets it. “Shit,” he says, “you found the cruiser!”

Archer nods, and with one last desperate intake of air strides forward to grab Phil’s gun arm. “In the woods, about a quarter mile from here. Fuck, I was lucky. I saw your headlights through the trees.”

And had, no doubt, sprinted back to the road in order to catch their attention. Damn. They should have given him a flare or something. Thank god the guy didn’t suffer a heart attack.

Archer is already dragging him backwards, toward wherever it is that Pike’s car resides.

“Pike?” Phil has to know, suddenly anxious.

Archer answers in a gruff tone, “Not there, or gone if he was.”

“I’ll call it in,” Danvers offers, watching them head off into the woods.

Phil follows him along a winding path, questions piling up in his head by the second. Because he isn’t able to wait until he sees the car, he asks, “What do you make of it?”

Archer isn’t forthcoming with an opinion. It isn’t until they arrive at a clearing that Phil can understand why.

The car has been stripped almost bare, inside and out: no wheels, no sirens or headlights, none of the computer equipment used by the department. Behind the car he makes out another dirt road that originates from god-knows-where, winding off into the trees and disappearing from sight.

“What is this?” Phil questions, shocked.

Archer rests a fist on top of the bent hood. “I don’t know yet.” Then he looks straight at Phil, expression unreadable. “But whoever did this knew what they were taking—and not taking.”

“The GPS,” Phil catches on. “That’s… not good.” Very bad in fact, as it implies premeditation.

“An understatement,” Archer murmurs. His gaze turns away, his posture stiff in the light of the moon. “Your forensics team better be on their A-game. This isn’t a missing persons case anymore.”

~~~

When Chris comes to, it is to dull pain and the coppery aftertaste of blood. At first he thinks his sight might be impaired as well, but the lack of light in the room is actually the culprit of his poor vision.

It takes two tries to come to his feet. Even then he staggers back, luckily finding a wall against which to brace himself. The detective in him automatically begins to catalog his state. Lump at the back of the head means he encountered something hard, though his memory fails to say what. The taste of blood is a bitten tongue. The left shoulder is tender to the touch, as if it had been wrenched too hard. He can feel a few cuts on his hands but is unable to tell much else without a mirror.

When Chris looks down, he’s startled to discover that his shoes and socks are missing.

A quick pat-down reveals the situation to be more serious than that. His jacket, his car keys, wallet, gun, phone—everything but the clothes on his back is gone, stripped away by some unknown assailant. Has he been robbed?

Keeping a hand against the wall as a guide, Chris moves with care around the space. He counts his steps, realizing as he quickly hits the next wall that this room is smaller than one would imagine. For a moment, a sense of claustrophobia overwhelms him but he manages to shake that off and keep going.

He is a detective, he reminds himself. He is trained to analyze, not to fear the unknown. Whatever situation Chris has landed in, he can handle it. What matters is that he’s alive, that he is not critically injured or unable to help himself. The rest can be dealt with in time.

Slowly, methodically, his surroundings take shape. The room is bare, dusty, more than the size of a storage closet but not as large as an average bedroom. The walls are concrete and windowless. There is one door.

It’s here that Christopher expends most of his energy, for the door is metal with a small barred window in the middle. The area behind the door is darker than the room, an un-revealing pitch black that unnerves him. Chris tries the handle, only to find that the door won’t budge. He tries a second time with both hands and his uninjured shoulder to make certain the door isn’t simply rusted in place.

Locked, he decides. Since he can feel no mechanism on the interior, it must be locked from the outside.

Stepping back, he runs one hand through his hair, grimacing when he accidentally unearths what feels like a coating of dirt and a few cobweb strands.

The conclusion is obvious for a man of Pike’s experience but his brain still balks at the truth even as the facts line up: a blow to knock him unconscious, his relocation to a sealed room and the removal of all potential weapons, identification, and communication. Taking the shoes seems like overkill but it isn’t unheard-of.

Lastly, there is the door, which is the room’s only exit, is constructed to withstand brute force, and is barred from the outside.

“Shit,” he says succinctly.

He thinks he’s been kidnapped.

Related Posts:

• Holiday Revenge (13/13) – from January 20, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (12/13) – from January 19, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (11/13) – from January 8, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (10/12) – from January 5, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (9/12) – from January 3, 2017

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